


walking through windows

by andibeth82



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Pepper Potts, Bechdel Test Pass, Comfort/Angst, Extremis, F/M, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, Post-Iron Man 3, Protective Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having Natasha as a friend – or rather, Natasha wanting her as a friend, and for no other reason than as a genuine companion who was once in a similar position – is quite possibly one of the oddest things Pepper’s dealt with in recent memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spatium

**Author's Note:**

> Post IM3 [spoiler alerts] but before the arc reactor surgery, plus a bit of egregious canon tweaking to fit the confines of the story. What started as a few notes on my iPhone during a hotel breakfast got out of control very quickly in a very big way. 
> 
> Insane thanks to [phrenitis](http://www.archiveofourown.com/users/phrenitis), [lizook12](http://www.archiveofourown.com/users/lizook12) and [bobsessive](http://bobsessive.tumblr.com) for being betas that are deserving of everything in this world. You complete me.
> 
> Title credit courtesy of The National, from the song "Graceless."
> 
>  
> 
> _i am not my rosy self_  
>  _left my roses on my shelf_  
>  _take the wild ones, they're my favorites_  
>  _it's the side effects that save us_  
> 

After Extremis, Pepper dreams.

She dreams of dying, of falling, of pained faces and last words that she might not get to say. She wakes up with fingers wrapped tightly around the covers and limbs that feel overstretched and overheated. Tony’s a mostly prone figure on the pull-out next to her: they stopped sleeping in the same bed the first time she scorched the sheets and nearly burned off his elbow at the same time.

(He joked later that it was payback for Mark 42’s midnight attack, but Pepper couldn’t bring herself to laugh about it.) 

In the daytime, it’s all smiles and normalcy (she’s still CEO of Stark Industries after all, and if anything that S.H.I.E.L.D. put out was to be believed, her sudden disappearance had nothing to do with Killian despite their pre-holiday meeting) but at night it’s a different story. Her mind becomes a landfill of memories and fantasies that she can’t control and she dreams of bright and burning, of flames and explosions, of screams lost in the heat of her own breath, of charred burnt skin. She dreams until she can’t pull herself out of sleep, until she feels the only thing that can: the realistic weight of Tony’s body and his hand, a cold reprieve against her hot skin.

-

When she wakes up for what feels like the fifth time in 48 hours, she finds that he’s shifted his position so that their interlocking fingers don’t twist his arm in a way that would require an ace bandage. Still, the contortion of his frame against the hard mold of the chair makes Pepper grimace.

“That can’t be comfortable,” she mutters, struggling to flex her toes under the sheets of the bed. It’s a tentative battle, as is everything about her body these days, but she’s at least started to become aware of the tingling feelings that normally lead to overexertion and pain, controlling them enough to keep the danger at bay. He sits up, coming awake at her words.

“I’ve had worse.” She watches his mind snap into place with realization and awareness. “You alright? You feeling okay?”

It’s a trick question, because she knows as well as he does that feeling okay at this _particular_ moment is relative, and also that she might never truly feel okay again. But even in their co-habitual state, with being closer than they’ve ever been, their penchant to dance around the seriousness of any situation is something that’s still very much a work in progress. So Pepper manages a smile, feeling her lips curve upwards in what she hopes is a convincing show of optimism. 

“Never better.”

Tony leans forward, dragging a finger down the side of her face while inclining his head upwards where a large digital clock glows brightly; its blue numbers a sharp contrast against the plain white walls.

“JARVIS, do we have something I can work with?”

_Estimated time of completion was three hours and forty-four minutes, it has now been approximately four hours and twenty-five minutes since the first injection, sir. In the remaining time, I have composed a report containing diagnostic results and information concerning Ms. Potts’ progress._

“Give it to me, J.” He gets up and walks to the edge of the bed, stopping long enough to meet her eyes.

_It seems that Dr. Banner’s serum has successfully resulted in the dormancy of Extremis. I have recorded the body temperature at a consistent ninety-eight point four degrees Fahrenheit, which brings the calculated levels of risk explosion to just below five percent. This is a success rate equivalent to what would be the ninety-fifth percentile, sir, if previous AIM reports are to be believed._

Tony’s fingers find the footboard of the bed, his gaze locking on the floor.

_I have run the required permutations to verify the serum’s chemical composite and it appears that multiple injections will not diverge with any previous genetic modifications. However, I am afraid to report that while the effects of Extremis have been stabilized, there is, at this time, no way to entirely remove it from the system._

The AI’s voice drops into silence, and Pepper lets out a breath she hasn’t realized she’s been holding. She watches Tony’s knuckles lose color as he increases his grip on the edge of the bed.

“Tony.”

“Stabilized.” He spits out the word as if it’s a toxin, his brow furrowing in a look she recognizes all too well.

“Tony, you knew this was a risk.”

“It was a risk that should’ve worked,” he snaps, folding back into the chair next to her bed. “I had all the variables. I had Banner. My math is never wrong.” He lowers his face and she sighs, gingerly arching the fingers of one hand forward. The pained look that passes across his face immediately brings to mind the last time she intentionally reached for him with such force.

“It worked enough,” she says quietly, struggling to push the resulting memory from her brain, the tanker and the fear and _I’ll catch you, I promise_ and suddenly, she can’t remember what her life was like before she had to worry about every possible move meaning sudden death.

“Stabilized is good. It means I won’t explode. At least, I don’t think I will.” Attempting to laugh through the last part of the sentence is futile, the noise that emerges sounds like something between a chuckle and a cry and she tries not to acknowledge the hitch of his shoulders. In the harsh overhead light, with the finality of the past two days of work at rest, the lines around his face seem more pronounced than usual. It makes her wonder how long it will be before he stops blaming himself for everything that’s happened.

(Tony’s heart was more artificial than natural and it had been that way for years - but for someone who claimed to run on batteries, he fell victim to his emotions more often than anyone she had ever met, including herself.)

“I was supposed to get you better.”

“I am better.” As if to make a point, her thumb curves across the top of his palm. “And when you’re ready, you can make jokes about my new armor.” She forces her voice into the steadiness she knows he needs to hear, needs to believe, and he reaches up to wrap his arms around her body.

“It’s not just armor.” As he says the words, she’s suddenly all too aware of the way the rim of the arc reactor is pressing into her skin. Closing her eyes, she feels his fingers come to rest on the top of her scalp.

“It’s a terrible privilege.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [spatium: space. duration. interval.]


	2. Tractus

She only knew what Tony had chosen to tell her after the Expo; she had stayed away from the events in New York, and what she had told Coulson at the penthouse was largely true – she didn’t really know anything about the Avengers, save for a few stories Tony had let slip (which, given the complexities of the group’s individual history, she felt hardly constituted knowing anything at all.) Bruce was the exception, a result of his close friendship with Tony as well as his involvement in developing the counteracting Extremis injections, but she knew that the others more often than not stayed close. Pepper certainly didn’t turn a blind eye to the fact that even though they weren’t making headlines, they were all out there and taking care of business the best way that they knew how.

Still, the sight of Natasha Romanoff – all black and polished and corporate professional - is the last thing Pepper expects when she walks into her office for a meeting she doesn’t remember having scheduled.

“Welcome back,” Natasha says by way of greeting, rising from the couch and waving her hand to the side, all but ignoring the surprised look sliding over Pepper’s skin. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“I…” She swallows, her mind still working to process the other woman’s seemingly random presence. “Thank you. I think.” She closes the door quietly before turning back with crossed arms.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t usually make house calls, do they?”

“Only if they’re assigned to,” the redhead replies with a hint of mirth, and Pepper is immediately reminded of the last time she stood in this office with Natasha – Natalie – whoever she had been back then, if she had really ever been Natalie at all.

“This isn’t a house call, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow, eyes darting to the side of the room. “Then if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you doing here? If you’re looking for Tony, you can find him at the house. I’m sure you have all the whereabouts regarding our new location.” She gestures towards the window as if to prove her point, and Natasha smirks. 

“We do, as you well know. But I just thought I would stop by and see how your vacation went.” Her voice betrays nothing less than artificial pleasantry, while her eyes cloud with a different answer entirely.

“Fine,” Pepper lies with the same artificial tone, leaning over to pick up a stack of papers. “It all went fine. Venice is lovely in the winter, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” Natasha pauses, invoking a silence that seems to ascend from awkward to icy in near record time. “Pepper –“

“Who else is here?” The words interject before she can stop them; she sees Natasha’s brow rise in response.

“No one. Aside from your employees, it’s just you and me.” She lowers herself back to the couch, her voice dropping to a level so quiet that Pepper begins to think the answer might be as close to genuine as she’s ever going to get from someone who made their living as a spy.

“And are you here to tell me how much of a danger I am now that S.H.I.E.L.D. knows Extremis can’t be removed?” Pepper asks just as quietly. “Because I finally got used to sleeping again without the fear of possibly blowing up by accident.”

Natasha cocks her head, lips settling in an impossibly thin line.

“For what it’s worth, it’s considered highly impressive if we can call one of our own a threat – so long as they’re not being openly destructive about it.” She lets her gaze travel to the framed photo that decorates the edge of the ornate desk before flicking her eyes forward again. “But no, that’s not why I’m here. I told you. This is not official S.H.I.E.L.D. business.”

“Then what is it?” Pepper asks with an air of impatience. She watches as Natasha leans forward, one hand settling across her knee.

“You had dreams, right? After Extremis? Before Tony and Bruce created the serum?”

 _I still have them._ Pepper frowns. “Why does it matter?”

“You were compromised. I know how it feels.” Natasha leans back, her actions matching the nonchalant tone hidden underneath her next words. “And I thought you could use a friend.”

-

Having Natasha as a friend – or rather, Natasha wanting her as a friend, and for no other reason than as a genuine companion who was once in a similar position – is quite possibly one of the oddest things Pepper’s dealt with in recent memory, though perhaps not _the_ oddest as being Iron Man’s girlfriend had afforded her some rather off-the-beat experiences. She recounts the meeting while mentally noting the way Tony’s mouth moves back and forth without actually forming words.

“Does this bother you?” She pulls down the covers, carefully settling herself on the pillow. Despite two weeks of check-ups and JARVIS’ continued confirmation of “exceptional” results, she still finds herself on edge and wonders if that engrained fear is something that will ever go away.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Tony returns gruffly, throwing a tank top over his head, the fabric darkening the iridescent blue of his chest. Pepper sighs, spreading her fingers over the covers.

“So then two women talking about things other than sex and men is taboo.” She watches him stare at the ceiling before finally meeting her gaze. 

“It’s just strange.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “Stranger than your ex-personal assistant turned war buddy becoming friends with your ex-personal assistant turned girlfriend?”

Tony glowers. “Not that strange.”

She shakes her head, propping herself on one elbow as fingers reach for the side of his face.

“You’re worried.” She says the words while noting what his eyes seem to be trying to hide in the mask of the dark room.

“I have a right to be worried.” His voice rises, and she can tell he’s trying to keep the defensiveness out of his tone completely. “I mean, you’re going to be friends with a master assassin.” 

“Oh, and let me list _your_ friends,” Pepper replies sarcastically, unable to help herself. “Because I count among them a God, a super soldier, a green rage monster disguised as a docile genius, not to mention an MIT-educated militant who at times happens to be a weaponized version of yourself.”

Tony tosses onto his back with a grunt while Pepper blows out a breath.

“I just think that maybe it would be good for us to spend some time together. She knows things that…that I’ve experienced. Maybe she can help.” 

Tony sighs. “These people…they’re trained for war, Pepper.”

“Like you?” The words come out in a rush of air and he looks over abruptly, five new lines creasing the sides of his face. 

“Look, it’s…they don’t just decide one day that they’re going to weave friendship bracelets and trade phone numbers, okay? There’s always a motive.”

Pepper shakes her head. “Tony, it’s not like she came into my office and sang me songs of praise. Trust me. I had my own suspicions.” She pauses. “But I think Natasha could use a little normal.” 

“Yeah, well. Just remember normal to her involves kicking people in the back of the head when they don’t comply with restaurant orders.” She scoots close to his back, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I’ll try to remember that when I think about how for awhile, normal for me was trying not to blow up everything I touched.”

He doesn’t answer but she feels him tighten his grip on her hands, which have found hers under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tractus: region. course.]


	3. Cael

The cafe that Natasha picks is small and unassuming, something Pepper instinctively attributes to the fact that for all her good intentions, her companion is (and will always be) a spy at heart. She slides into the seat and stares down her wine glass before picking up a menu, Natasha following suit, one heel clicking against the concrete.

“It’s just a habit,” she says finally from behind dark sunglasses, as if reading Pepper’s mind. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t.” She tightens her grip on the laminated pages. “I’m used to it.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Her voice drips with the kind of sarcasm that Pepper thinks maybe she should take offense to before she realizes that she all but walked into being cornered by her own remark. Even before his Iron Man days, Tony had a penchant for not only thriving on being the center of attention, but for using it to his advantage. And Pepper knows that while he may choose at any given time to sit in a corner with dark glasses, he would never intentionally try to hide himself from the world.

At least, not while out in public.

“New shoes?” Natasha’s voice breaks the silence, and Pepper looks up, surprise shadowing her features. In any other context, she thinks that talking shoes and appetizers with Natasha Romanoff might have been cause for alarm, but in this moment, with waiters bustling back and forth and two women to her left loudly discussing the latest results of a magazine poll, the whole situation seems decidingly normal in a way that Pepper knows she would never be able to describe to anyone else.

“Actually, yes.” She flashes a quick smile, uncrossing her legs under the table. “Want to try them on?”

Natasha kicks back, her eyes flipping towards the ground in a reaction so quick it almost goes unnoticed. “No, thanks. Besides, the heels look too dull. I’d need ones that are sharper. All the better to kick my enemies with, you know.”

 _Just remember normal to her involves kicking people in the back of the head when they don’t comply with restaurant orders_. In the time it takes for Pepper’s mind to reconcile Tony’s voice, Natasha breaks into a grin.

“Relax. I’m kidding.” She shrugs. “Kind of. You know, you should think about trying out a mission sometime,” she continues with the same air of bemused detachment and Pepper nearly spits her water onto the table at the comment.

“I, uh…I don’t think I’m really qualified to be involved in your superhero army,” she admits when she recovers, reaching for a napkin. Natasha leans back, a new arrangement of lines creasing her forehead.

“I think you have more to offer us than you know,” she says slowly, placing her hands on the table. “But at the end of the day, that’s for you to decide.” She folds her arms, watching Pepper’s gaze move past her body and into the distance behind her.

“Tony’s worried about me.”

Natasha’s head dips steadily. “I expected as much. I still don’t think he really trusts me after…well…after everything.”

“Even after New York?” Pepper brings her eyes back to the table and the other woman looks up with a shrug.

“I don’t know. Maybe a little bit. The truth is, Potts, we all play our part, keep the world safe from those that try invoke harm. It’s the nature of our job. Don’t doubt that I’d go to the ends of the earth to protect Stark just as he did for us, but Avengers Initiative aside, I stay out of his affairs and he stays out of mine. You being the exception.”

“Because I was…” Pepper stops and pauses, searching for the word Natasha had used in her office. “Compromised.”

“Yes.” Her eyebrows rise over the top of her shades. “Because of that. And because dating a superhero isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.”

“You have some experience in that field.” It’s not meant to be accusatory as much as it’s meant to be a statement of truth, but if Natasha detects any hostility underneath her tone, she lets it slide.

“You could say so.” She runs a hand through her hair and Pepper’s brain turns to Miami, to the last thing she saw before she fell, Tony’s anguished face laced with pain and illuminated by multiple bursts of light. She wonders how often, if at all, Natasha saw something of the same respect – what she thought would be a last look at the one person she loved more than she could express, but perhaps never enough to warrant dying before her time.

“Does it ever end?” She’s not sure if she means the memories that still seem all too real or Tony’s grief-stricken guilt that she knows he’ll never verbally admit to holding onto, and lets the end of the question hang in the air hoping maybe she doesn’t need to clarify.

“Not really.” The way Natasha’s voice softens lets Pepper know that her unspoken words haven’t gone unnoticed.

“But if you love them, it’s worth the pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cael: world. universe.]


	4. Momentum

The rest of lunch is full of talk concerning everything and nothing, cryptic discussion that gives way to dialogue where mutual acquaintances are concerned (Natasha is intensely interested in what she knows about Extremis that S.H.I.E.L.D. has failed to provide in initial briefings) and Pepper reaches for her bag when the waitress finally throws a second wary eye in their direction.

 _Client meeting. Might as well put it on the SI lunch tab_ , Tony had joked before she left the house, a comment which resulted in both an eye roll and shoulder punch. It’s not until Pepper turns back to the table that she notices Natasha’s gone still in a way that’s both unsettling and captivating all at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” She asks the question before realizing she doesn’t have to, the way the other woman’s hands are tightening around the edges of the table tell her more in one second than her mouth probably could in five.

“We should go.” Ignoring the wallet in Pepper’s hand, she casually drops a fistful of twenties onto the table as she rises.

“Go where?”

“Car’s waiting over here,” Natasha answers, not bothering to acknowledge Pepper’s question as they move through the crowd. Around the corner, a S.H.I.E.L.D. hummer idles just out of sight of the main drag. Natasha opens the door, slinging herself inside, and as she begins stripping herself of her jacket and sunglasses Pepper catches for the first time a glimpse of the Bluetooth headset positioned behind her ear. It’s not as small as the one Tony routinely uses to control JARVIS, but it’s tiny enough to be practically indiscernible behind the waves of her red hair. 

She blinks wordlessly while filtering Natasha’s end of the conversation through one ear, something about a facility and “volatile containments” and possible hostages. It’s all the things she’s used to hearing about from Tony and his “save the world” stories, the things that she sees on the news and then sees in person when she tends to a scar or helps him out of a burned suit - but in the context of knowing she’s along for the ride rather than ensconced in the safety of the workshop, it all seems like too much too soon.

“What the hell is going on?” She bursts out with more force than she thinks she means, pushing back against the seat.

“Weapons, if you must know,” Natasha replies as if they’re still having a casual conversation over chopped salad. She expertly pulls at a zipper on her boot and Pepper looks up.

“Weapons?" She feels her brow furrow automatically. "What do you mean, what kind of weapons?”

“We’re not exactly sure.” Natasha shifts in her seat. “Highly classified, according to S.H.I.E.L.D. reports. Most likely extremely unstable. From what we _do_ know, they were created with the intent of destroying Extremis…and the people who were infected with it. Though, unlike our team, they didn’t really have a regard for human life.” Pepper twists her hands into her lap while her body registers the words, struggling to keep her poker face intact as the weight of them settles into her brain. Natasha glances over briefly, before turning her attention back to the window.

“The company who developed them, they were another underground think tank that sought to destroy AIM’s motives. They dealt below the surface…probably someone else that Killian managed to piss off during his career.” Her mouth twists into a wry smile. “They’re a threat to you, and to whoever else is out there living with this, and so we’re going to help remove them.”

“Remove them…how?”

Natasha doesn’t immediately answer and Pepper bites her lip, knowing better than to push further on the subject. She decides to try a different tactic instead.

“Just where _are_ these weapons?”

“In a warehouse.” Natasha points through the tinted window. “Containment facility, actually, which means we’re probably looking at what would be considered a shipping location. About 20 minutes from here.” She finally stops talking and suddenly, Pepper begins to understand. 

“You didn’t pick the restaurant because it was out of the way,” she says slowly, fragments of the afternoon’s activities falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. “You picked it because it was close to where you needed to be in case you got called into battle. And you knew I’d be with you.”

“You are an ace detective, Potts,” Natasha responds with a smile as the van veers to the left with a sharp jolt. “No wonder Stark keeps you around.” They skid to a stop in the middle of a desolated alley and Pepper braces herself against the seat as her body lurches forward, but Natasha doesn’t hesitate to wait until the car has stopped moving to make her escape.

“Let’s go,” she says loudly, sprinting from the van, grabbing a black pistol from her pocket.

“I…I’m not armed,” Pepper protests, heels clicking loudly against the concrete of the empty passageway. Natasha turns back, eyeing her up and down before continuing her sprint into the building.

“You’ll make do.”

-

It takes Pepper’s eyes a moment to focus when she steps inside the dark building, her ears adjusting to distant shouts and noises that sound like the discharging of firearms. She thinks she can hear Steve, possibly Clint, though with the intermingling yells and grunts of fighting, it’s hard to discern anything from the situation much less voices of people that she’s not entirely familiar with.  

She strains her hearing, listening for more telltale signs of gunfire, but Natasha’s long gone and from what Pepper can tell by the sounds echoing off the concrete wall, any fighting that had been taking place before their arrival has been moved inwards. She walks further into the bowels of the building, hands pressing against the wall, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than she would care to admit. The Avengers were a formidable match based on the specifics of their skill sets and Steve had his strength, while Clint had his arrows and Natasha had her training.

_What do I have?_

As if on cue, Pepper feels the tips of her fingers grow warm and looks down to see a soft glow illuminated against the dark. She flexes tentatively, the fear she’d only just learned to tamper racing through her body as her limbs grow warmer, the orange light becoming more prevalent. It’s not quite the brightness that Tony’s chest piece would have provided in the same situation, but it works well enough. 

“Jesus.” Pepper blinks against the dim lighting, almost failing to notice the body coming up behind her. Before she can fully react, something hard knocks into her arm, sending her to her knees. There’s a scorching sensation and the slight splitting of skin and at that moment, Pepper is so angry, she thinks she could burn.

And then, she feels like she does. Heat crawls down the inside of her legs as one foot stretches forward, sending out a sharp kick that hits her assailant somewhere by his knees, one arm coming up to follow with a distinct punch. Her shoulders feel like they’re on fire and as she watches her attacker fall, she stumbles towards the ground, concentrates on clamping down the overwhelming heat as it disperses in sharp waves throughout her body.

_I am stabilized. I am not going to explode. Tony said he made me better._

_I am not going to explode._

Struggling to find footing, Pepper picks herself up, inching towards the figure lying motionless on the floor. A good look at her attacker reveals a dark haired man with a mask obscuring half his face, his forehead rough and crinkled as though riddled with third degree burns. She watches as steam starts to rise from his arms, angry trails of red fire crawling over his skin as if whatever was contained in his body is now struggling for release. In a matter of seconds, his entire frame is glowing with a bright ginger light.

She squeezes her eyes shut, scrabbling away, and shoves herself towards what she hopes might be an exit. An intense rumble explodes behind her as she pushes her body through a slim doorway and Pepper huddles into a corner, throwing her arms over her head in a desperate last attempt at protection. When she lets her ears absorb the sounds of near silence and realizes that the air around her is still cool rather than grossly overheated, she lifts her head curiously, looking back towards the room.

The man - whatever is left of him, and Pepper’s quite sure that if she hadn’t gotten a good look, she wouldn’t have been able to tell he was ever a man at all – lies in pieces, a mess of scattered limbs and other body parts that she doesn’t want to think about, everything black and charred and smoking.

“Like a bad allergic reaction.” Natasha’s voice pops up suddenly from somewhere beside her and she stoops by Pepper’s feet to pick up the mask, melted and barely recognizable in its disintegrated state. “They’d rather kill Extremis and its host completely than figure out how to remove it without hurting someone.” Throwing the disguise to the ground, she presses a finger to her ear.

“Potts took down one of the subjects on 2, nothing else here that I can find. Level’s clear.”

She sprints off again and Pepper follows, moving as fast as her stilettos will allow. Taking the stairs two at a time, she stops when she gets to what she figures must be the control room, judging by the large television panels and computer keyboards, most of which are covered in splatters of dark blood. At least a dozen assailants are engaged in battle with a number more lying dead or knocked out in piles along the floor and she doesn’t miss the dozens of wooden boxes scattered along the edge of the wall, large red X’s branding their sides.

Pepper watches half in awe as Captain America delivers a swing that looks both effortless and deadly at the same time, bringing a light haired man to his knees with the sharp, concentrated movement of his shield.

“No way to remove these cases without risk of explosion,” Steve yells as he ducks another punch. “They got ‘em rigged with some sort of tracking device that detects all levels of movement.”

“Then leave them, the building will take care of itself on its own,” Natasha bites back, leveling an attacker. She grabs a man behind her with both arms, cracking his neck with a sharp snap while throwing her gaze to the sky.

“Hawk, another one up top for you.”

Pepper careens her head, sees Clint just beyond reach of one of the concrete pillars, arrows narrowly circumventing around her head and landing in their target. Natasha is to her right, her body moving so fast that Pepper can barely see the trajectory of her kicks.

“I got it, Nat.”

A guy to her left goes down and when Pepper turns, another man is staring her directly in the face. She ducks as his hand comes up by her head and then without thinking, lets her body take over, channeling excess heat into her limbs as she delivers a wide punch to his face. The man goes down like a ragdoll, sagging against her knees, and she unclenches her fist slowly in a mixture of astonishment and relief.

 _I’m not going to explode_.

“Nice move,” Natasha calls out with a smile as she whirls forward, taking two men to the ground with a single sweeping blow. “What else do you have?”

Pepper immediately turns, bringing one leg up, the side of her calf connecting with an assailant’s arm. Waves of heat pulse through her body as her hands work to combat the attackers coming at her and somewhere in between the yells and the screams and the fire that makes her feel like she’s going to detonate, she realizes whatever fear she’s _supposed_ to be feeling, whatever fear she _expected_ to be feeling, is ebbing away with each punch and kick. She ducks low, a sensation akin to thrill churning through her stomach, and straightens just as she hears Steve yell something about back up.

The two streams of repulsor rays that blast through the roof above are enough to create a massive opening, allowing a torrent of late afternoon light to flood the otherwise dark room. Natasha looks up, squinting against the sudden brightness, while Steve comes into view behind her, shaking his head.

“It’s about damn time, Stark.”

Pepper’s eyes meet the center of the helmet within seconds of Tony’s crouched landing on the warehouse floor and her first thought is to acknowledge him, to communicate in some way that lets him know she’s okay. But her mind and brain are too focused on the autopilot of Extremis’ heat-fueled strength and instead she bends sideways, concentrating on the attackers coming in their direction. One punch follows the other in quick succession and she can feel the heat of Tony’s repulsors behind her as he aims upward, firing at will and knocking two of the men behind Clint off their feet. As she flips her head back, a haze of orange lacing across her pupils, she sees his faceplate snap up, catches the surprised look and raised eyebrows. Somewhere inside her brain it clicks that she’s doing this, that _they’re_ doing this, that they’re fighting _together_.

“Get out before this place blows!” Clint’s voice roars, tinged with the kind of sudden panic that causes Pepper’s blood to run cold. She turns towards where she knows Tony has been positioned, coming chest to chest with another man in a mask. Pepper staggers backwards as much as the small space allows, kicking forward, the edge of her heel squarely sinking into what feels like a soft spot of open skin. The assailant falls sideways, but not before delivering a blow that knocks her off her feet and sends her flying across the room. She lands hard on her back, momentarily thrown off guard and unable to move for what feels like long, ticking minutes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees another attacker edge into her vision, a scowl plastered over his burn-addled face.

“I got you.”

And then Tony’s beside her, grabbing her around the waist as her hands find purchase in the familiar cervices of the suit. Before he can caution her to hold on he shoots upwards, jets streaming, towards sky and safety.

They’re halfway into ascent when the warehouse explodes, sending up a fireball of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [momentum: importance. instant. motion.]


	5. Mora

The hummer is still sitting in the alleyway when they all return, Steve and Clint looking slightly worse for the wear having been in the throes of battle longer than anyone else. For her part, Natasha looks relatively unharmed, save for a few scrapes on the side of her face, and Pepper wishes she had the strength to find herself more impressed about that fact. With the fighting over, she’s back to being too focused on Tony leaning against the side of the car, head thrown back in obvious discomfort. His suit stands immobile a few yards away - he had discarded himself from it the moment they landed, but not before gripping her in an embrace so tight she thought all her remaining bones might break in half - and her heart drops into her stomach at the sight of him. Here he was, telling her to be careful, that he was worried, and she was proving him right. Forcing him to look his fears in the face, another instance of being stranded in a situation where she could have been injured or hurt, or possibly dead.

Pepper makes her way across the alley, her bare feet treading cautiously on the hard ground as she leans back next to him, letting her head fall into the curve between his shoulder and neck. She feels him flinch slightly before relaxing at the familiar warmth that she knows is the comfort of her body against his.

“You did good back there,” he says quietly, his voice strained with an emotion she can’t quite figure out. She runs a hand through her hair and hugs her arms to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t really know if she’s sorry but says it because it seems like the only thing she can offer, because she’s not quite sure how to proceed, because Miami doesn’t really count and she’s never been on this end of the situation before despite the many times he’s done something that’s sent her raging. It’s a rare reversal of all too common events – her being concerned because he’s done something that was brash and awful and potentially devastating.

“Yeah, well, me too.” He balls his hands into hard fists and looks up, letting out a sigh. “I thought for sure…until I saw…” He trails off before speaking again. “Where the hell did that even come from?”

“Why, do you miss the sports bra?”

He looks pointedly at her arm where a newly pink scar is still in the process of scabbing over, its edges an angry shade of red. She waves it off with a roll of her eyes.

“Surface wound. I’m fine. Give me Motrin and a cotton ball; I’ll get it cleaned up in five minutes. You _do_ still have Motrin somewhere, don’t you?”

“It’s not funny,” Tony protests sharply, his voice rising. “You could’ve died. You don’t have a suit. You don’t…”

“But I do.” Pepper turns, resting a hand against his cheek. “I have armor, remember? And if anything back there was to be believed, it can be controlled.” 

“It’s not armor!” Tony jerks away suddenly, hurt playing across his eyes. “It’s not…Extremis, this thing, Pepper, it’s is not something to be played around with. The serum wasn’t created as a failsafe. There are no guarantees that this thing can’t _kill_ you. That you can’t kill yourself.”

“I wasn’t scared.” She grips his hand. “For the first time since I can remember, I wasn’t scared of myself. And I know what could have happened but they…Natasha…they were all there and I was fighting. Tony, _we_ were _fighting_.”

He rubs the edge of his palm over his eyes. “And yet, for the second time in a month, you scared the crap out of me.” She catches the faint trace of a bloodshot vein when he blinks, and something inside her chest pulls and frays.

“What happened in Miami wasn’t your fault.” She hears the sharp intake of breath as his fingers constrict around her palm but ignores what she knows it means. “And this isn’t your fault. It’s my battle, Tony.” She steps closer, drawing a hand around the back of his neck. “ _Our_ battle.” 

He rests his forehead against hers, hands twisting around her waist. 

“I need you to be safe.”

“I will be.”

“You can’t promise that.” He looks up, his eyes settling on the semi circle his friends have created a few steps away before bringing them back to focus on her face. “They can’t promise that.” 

Pepper raises her head, watches the fear hidden underneath a smile that seems too brittle dissipate as their eyes lock, the desperation of searching for traces of orange in her gaze slackening just enough for her to notice.

“But you can.” 

Tony jerks slightly as her hands twitch, idly tracing over the metal in his chest.

“Don’t do that,” he says finally, his voice low. “I couldn’t…not when it mattered.”

Pepper closes her eyes. “I just fought alongside your friends in a battle that could’ve killed me.” She looks up. “I did it while being infected with something I never thought I would be able to control. I did that because of you, Tony. Because you got me better.”

“It wasn’t even me,” he says with a slight laugh. She presses into his frame, her fingers lingering on the space where he knows his heart would be if it still existed in fully functional form.

“It’s always been you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [mora: pause. drawback.]


	6. Iter

Natasha is the only one that comes back to the house afterwards and Pepper’s not exactly sure why but doesn’t bother to question when she gets into the car, directs the driver to the address that Pepper knows neither her or Tony ever mentioned out loud. When she finally does get a chance to sit, stretching her legs against the couch cushions, she suddenly finds herself feeling more tired than she’s ever felt in her life. Was it really only 3 hours ago that she was sitting inconspicuously in the middle of a street café, talking about shoes and ordering wine? Natasha’s silent next to her, swirling a glass of whatever alcohol Tony has managed to procure from his collection and fingering what looks like the beginnings of a nasty bruise on her right elbow where one of the assailants had taken a shot at her arm. Pepper isn’t really sure what she’s waiting for – some kind of satisfaction, maybe, in having the other woman break first. She’s used to it from Tony, even before they were together in “that way” she knew how to win his stubborn games and she still wins them.

But, Pepper reminds herself as she stares forward, eyes landing on her own battle scars, this isn’t Tony.

“You…the superhero stuff.” She swallows. “You said it was for me to decide.”

Natasha looks up, finally meeting her eyes. “It is.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it,” Pepper replies angrily, her brain finally seeming to realize just how much of her resolve has been rattled over the course of the day. “It seemed like one minute we were at lunch, and the next, I was being walked into a situation that I had no control over. That I wasn’t even _prepared_ for.”

“And how did that make you feel?” The tone of Natasha’s voice remains stagnant, which only fuels Pepper’s agitation.

“I felt…I felt…” She pauses, because she doesn’t know what to say. She had never, at any stage, envied his life – she’d seen enough bullet holes, counted enough armor cracks to know there was more to this than simply being hailed as a national hero – but she never quite told herself she wouldn’t want to try it, either.

“I’m not like you,” Pepper says finally, dropping her eyes. Natasha sighs.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

There’s a part of Pepper that wants to tell Natasha to stop talking in goddamn riddles and mixed words, that not everyone is trained to look below the surface of a sentence (though she knows her and Tony are able to do it better than most.) But before she can form her words, Natasha barrels on.

“None of us had a choice. Not me, not Bruce, not Steve. Do you honestly think Tony would be doing this if his life hadn’t depended on him taking a look at the person he had become?” The cold tremors of her voice make Pepper think of ice and she sits back, eyeing the other woman warily.

“No one is forcing you to be someone you’re not,” she continues. “But yes, Pepper, you’re being given something none of us were actually given – a choice. Even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Natasha downs the rest of her drink in in a single swipe before getting up, one hand tracing the rim of the glass.

“There are more facilities that we want to track. Given what happened today, and how high profile you are, it’s still not entirely safe for anyone to know about you. Which is why S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to destroy all of your medical records, except for the ones Tony has stored on his private server.” Her tongue clicks in her mouth as her boots move against the floor. “I’ll be in touch next week with more details.” 

“Thank you,” Pepper says quietly, casting her gaze downward as Natasha’s face folds into the start of a smile. 

“It helps, you know.”

Pepper looks up, unconsciously running her hand against the almost invisible mark on her forearm.

“What?”

“Fighting. Accepting. Embracing.” Natasha’s voice drops. “After everything that happened to me, I found that the dreams stopped once I started believing that I was no longer a threat to myself. Or to the people I cared about.” She pauses, her eyes wandering to the short flight of stairs in the corner of the room. “Anyway. This…superhero thing. Whatever you want to call it. Talk it over with Tony, talk it over with yourself, but it’s yours for the taking.”

She turns, pushing back a lock of bright red hair, and finds Pepper’s eyes.

“It always will be.”

\- 

Pepper doesn’t talk it over with Tony on the first day. Or the fifth. Or the seventh. She attributes it partly to the fact that she’s avoiding the subject, partly to the fact that Tony seems to not to want to talk about the events that went down at the warehouse, and partly to the fact that, well, she’s simply busy. The world just doesn’t stop because she has some decision to make about whether or not she wants to add Pepper Potts, Newly Minted Superhero to her resume, and so there are new contracts to sign and new paintings to purchase and new hires to background check. And eventually, enough time passes that she forgets about having the conversation all together.  
  
Which is why when Tony climbs into bed and admits that he’s decided to go ahead with surgery that will aid in the removal of the arc reactor, it’s all she can do to keep the shock out of her voice.

“Why?”

“Because with everything that’s happened, I don’t owe it to you to live like this.”

“It’s the only thing I’ve _ever_ known.” She knows it’s not an entirely true response but in a sense, it feels like it, and Pepper’s come to realize in the past few years that she’s probably cared for her boss since before he was ever Iron Man - even back when he was the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist the world never tired of talking about.

Since the first day of work, when he complimented her shoes and half-jokingly told her not to wear heels around the house because it made her too tall for his liking.

Since the first time he said thank you when she brought him take out because he was working late and lost track of time.

Since she saw him walk off the plane from Afghanistan, looking strung out and disheveled with his arm in a sling but who cared because it had been three months and somehow, by some miracle, he was _alive_. Pepper leans against the pillow, folding into his side.

“Will it hurt?”

“I’ll be passed out as if I have the worst hangover in the world. But yes, after that, it will probably hurt.” Tony offers a small smile, and she manages a smaller one back.

“And it’s…safe?”

“Is anything?”

She falls silent at that, crossing her legs under the covers while placing her head on his chest, hands spreading over the arc reactor, fingers clenched around the cold frame.

“Natasha told me that the choice was mine for the taking.” The words come out quietly, but she knows that their impact isn’t lost on him.

“And?” His response is just as quiet.

“It’s tempting. And I…maybe I want it.” She shifts, lifting her head and meeting his eyes. “But I only want it with you.”

Tony reaches up, letting his hands tangle in the short strands of her bangs.

“I think that can be arranged. Probably will take a bit of tinkering without this thing to help me out, but I’ll make it work.” He gestures to his body and she tightens her grip around his waist, feeling a hint of warmth as heat spreads through the curves of her fingers. Her stomach does a small, uncoordinated flip at the sensation, but for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel apprehensive about what it could mean.

As if reading her mind, his hand moves to her palm and she lets herself find comfort in the way the pale blue light intermingles with the heat of her body, uncontrollable manmade elements of themselves that have somehow fused together to create something whole and vibrant where before there were only cracks and burns.

And Pepper knows that maybe there’s too much at stake, and maybe there’s something else they’ll need to deal with tomorrow. But right now, they’ll focus on each other, and that will be enough.

-

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [iter: journey. road.]


End file.
